


Ashes to Rust

by starlessknight



Category: Destiny (Video Games)
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, F/F, Slow Burn, Useless Lesbians, knightly heroics, loss tempered by hope, that gay shit, wistful introspective gay poetry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-24
Updated: 2020-06-09
Packaged: 2021-02-25 21:20:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 5
Words: 13,353
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21932116
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/starlessknight/pseuds/starlessknight
Summary: From her resurrection in Punjab, to the ill-fated search for SIVA, this is a (mostly truthful) chronicle of Sunbreaker Titan Isa Irethi's time spent among the Iron Lords.
Relationships: Skorri (Destiny)/Original Female Character(s)
Comments: 2
Kudos: 14





	1. Spark

"Hey, you! You're finally awake."  
Leaves rustled as a figure rose from the forest floor, its once-mangled body now healed, renewed and strong.  
"Uuuh…"  
Dazed and bewildered, the figure removed its sturdy helmet, the material scuffed and worn after centuries of neglect. Beneath the helmet's visor was the face of a young woman - her alert amber eyes now scanning the area, having blinked away many years' worth of the longest sleep. "Huh ... who's there?"  
A small floating drone, a slightly angular sphere the size of a fist, hovered into view. It bobbed eagerly in place and had one warm orange eye. The woman stepped back cautiously, and the orb spoke in an excited, feminine voice.  
"You! It worked! You're...you're here! You're alive, it's really you! My...Chosen! Oh, this is fantastic! This is the happiest day of my life! The Traveler has heard my call at last."  
The woman merely tilted her head, perplexed. "You...what? Who are you?"  
"I'm a Ghost! Your Ghost! Oh, we're going to be so wonderful together, I just know it!"  
"So I'm dead? Thought you just said I was alive."  
"You were dead," the floating thing corrected, "but I found you! And I brought you back! It was my destiny to do so."  
"So I'm... alive, now." The young woman looked down at herself. Her leather jacket was stained with blood, and the faded pants she wore had been ripped in several places. Her boots were muddy, and worn. "I died… but I don't remember it, really. Or...much of anything…" She frowned.  
"Oh! Yeah, you wouldn't," the Ghost remarked morosely. "I'm just glad everything worked! You're alive, you're not in any pain, all your organs are intact! It's just delightful! My Chosen and I, united at last! I'm so happy I could sing!"  
"Please don't."

The woman examined the helmet she held in her hands. It appeared to be made of a light metal, or perhaps something more malleable. It seemed to have taken quite a beating, both inside and out. More of the same dried blood stained the helmet. "Hey, uh...Ghost. How'd I die?"  
"I couldn't tell you for sure, but if I had to guess, I'd say it had to do something with that two-wheeled vehicle right over there!"  
She glanced over where the little drone was looking, its hazy orange eye fixed on something gleaming amongst the jungle floor.  
Upon closer inspection, she discovered a sleek, upright vehicle with two wheels and a sturdy motor.  
"So I died riding this thing?"  
"Indeed! You must have worn that helmet for protection - I found your body near the rusted wreckage of that thing. According to what I've heard from some of the other chosen of the Traveler, this is called a motorcycle. This model is from several decades before the Collapse, but it should still run…. It just needs a little love. Maybe I can give it some kick…"  
The Ghost floated over, bobbing excitedly as it (she?) projected a small white beam, sweeping over the wrecked motorcycle, cutting away vines and purging rust. When the drone's work was done, the whole thing seemed to glow very faintly with the same kind of light that surrounded the Ghost.  
It gave the woman a surge of joy and excitement to see the motorcycle repaired. Grinning, she brushed away some of the last vines, and settled into the worn seat.  
"This is… comfortable. I feel like I've been here my whole life."  
"Before I found you," the Ghost said, "lifetimes surely went by."  
She tried not to hard to think about what it meant by that.  
"Hey, you mentioned a...Traveler, right? And a Collapse? What's that?"  
"The Traveler is...like, well, I tend to think of her like our mother. But she is also with us Ghosts every step of the way. She is as much a part of us as we are of her. And… of you now, as well."  
"There's others like you? Other Ghosts?"  
"Yes! And others like you! Chosen of the Traveler! You see, humanity is in great danger. The Traveler came to you, and gifted humanity its blessing. Boundless vigor and wealth… advancement and prosperity. But of course, there are those who would strike down and destroy the Traveler - her ancient enemy from a place older than music, older than the stars. I have no name for it, but it followed her here, and did battle with the Traveler in orbit above this world. That ended with the Traveler sorely wounded and the Enemy driven back. But with the last of her strength, the Traveler sent us forth - the Ghosts! - to open doors, as they say. I have opened the door to your resurrection. You bear a great gift now, and I'm sure you'll discover what to do. I promise I know as little as you do right now."  
The Ghost paused. "But.. I do know one thing, and it's that you're not safe here. Right now, humanity is on its last legs. Many have been gifted the same power you have - but they use it to lord over those who are meek and defenseless, strangling them with an iron fist. I feel that the Traveler brought us together because we share a sense of justice...will you prove me right?"  
The woman said nothing for a tense moment, reaching for her helmet and putting it on.  
"Yes."  
"Good. Then let's ride. We need to get going if we hope to make it to the Traveler."  
"It's here?" the woman said, firing up the motorcycle's engines.  
"Yes! She rests an ocean away, as far as I can tell. A great distance to the west."  
"Alright. Let's go." She paused. "Hey, Ghost, you got a name?"  
"I...can't say that I do. Would you like to name me?"  
"Uh, I guess," she said as the bike's engine roared to life. "How 'bout Mira? You sound like a Mira."  
"That's good enough for me!" said Mira, wiggling excitedly. "What about you? What do I call you?"  
"Call me Isa," she said, and it felt right.  
Together, Isa and Mira took off, the motorcycle roaring through the forests of Madhya Pradesh.

***

Judging by the way Mira had found Isa, it seemed she was quite… danger-prone, for good or ill. This was further confirmed when, passing through a place Mira called Rajasthan, some strange figures crested the dunes, clad in crimson as they crawled over the sand.  
"Stop." Mira's voice was a harsh whisper.  
"What? Who are they?"  
"They had the Traveler's favor before you did. Now, they're angry - I would be too if my entire civilization fell. They've fallen far - came originally from outside of this solar system. As far as I know, what I've heard from other Ghosts and other Risen like you, they've been relentlessly attacking humanity, probably trying to win back the Traveler. We don't have much info on them. They've proven very dangerous, but remember - I've got your back, and so does the Light."  
Isa frowned, muttered "I don't have time for this," and slammed her foot down on the gas. The scarlet-cloaked figures whipped around, chittering excitedly. One of them raised a long and spindly rifle, narrowly missing Isa's head with some sort of bright blue bolt. She leaned forward, bracing for impact. The bike shuddered and jerked as it collided with the nearest creature, running it over. The other four drew swords and gave chase, lunging after Isa as she made a swift turn.  
"Use the Light!" Mira's voice was urgent.  
"How?"  
"I-I don't know! Just...try!"  
Gritting her teeth, Isa charged again. The enemy was ready for her this time, though, and one of them lunged forward with a spear that caught Isa in the shoulder and knocked her from her bike.  
_Ugh. That was just fantastic,_ Isa groaned to herself as the creatures approached, mandibles clicking loudly. She saw them up close, now. They had four arms, and buglike features. Two of them carried spears or blades instead of guns. As the one that had bloodied her lunged again, Isa stepped aside, lashing out with a punch that sent the creature stumbling. She followed up with a swift kick to the head, and grabbed the spear her opponent had dropped. Barking an indignant cry in its guttural tongue, the creature charged weaponless, and was rewarded with a blade in its gut.  
Isa pulled the spear out, thinking, _Now we're getting somewhere,_ and watched as the other spear-carrier lunged in. She raised the shaft of her own spear to block the incoming blade, following that up with another punch, and finally finished off her foe the same way she did the other. As the extraterrestrial slid off her blade, the one that had shot at her earlier charged in, wielding a pair of curved swords. Isa fell back on the defensive, realizing that the other two she'd fought had likely just been cannon fodder off a sort. The creature slashed her across the abdomen, and Isa really wished she'd had something big and sturdy to wield.  
_Wait…_  
She endured another savage slash from her alien attacker, and the spear fell from her hands. Isa began reaching desperately for something, anything, and then it was there in her hand, burning red hot, as she swung it downward and crushed the enemy's skull.  
The thing she held was a flaming warhammer, surging with power and filling her entire body with light and hope. The largest of these aliens, a tall, imposing creature wearing a fur-lined cloak and an elaborate headdress, attacked viciously, its blades surging with electricity.  
Isa readied her hammer, striking the large creature with a sound like a ringing anvil. Dazed, the thing stumbled, then vanished.  
"Huh," Isa mused. "Must've scared him off. I wonder--"  
She felt a sharp, blinding pain in her back, and wondered since when was that blade poking out of her chest? She stared, dumbfounded, as Mira let out a shocked and worried cry.  
From behind her, the creature, who must have snuck up on her somehow, laughed a throaty, victorious laugh.  
Isa slid off the blades now stained with her own blood, struggling to stand and face her foe. There was a horrible ringing in her ears, but she knew that as long as she could hold a weapon, she could still stand and fight. Surging forward one last time, Isa's hammer sang a song of death and glory on the skull of her enemy.  
With a weary sigh, she fell to her knees as well, and the heat of the desert faded from her. A second later, so did everything else.

***

"Hey! Get back up! Did you think you were done yet?" Mira's voice buzzed excitedly, yet also nervously, in Isa's ears.  
She sat up in the sand, groaning. "Did...did I win?"  
"Did you win??? Shit, I don't think I've ever seen anything like it! You were incredible! Why, I'd wager no one's Light has ever shown so brightly."  
"The Light," Isa mused. "That's what this weapon was?"  
"Yes!" Mira bobbed up and down eagerly. "From what I've seen, many can channel their Light differently. You'll know what's best for you, I suppose."  
"When can I meet these others like me?"  
"Across the sea, near the Andes Mountains, is where the Traveler has chosen to settle," Mira replied. "It's there you'll meet others with your gift - but you'll want a real weapon, before we get too far."


	2. Ignite

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> this chapter's got pensive ruminations on the state of humanity post-collapse, a grim and muddy dark age battlefield, honor and glory, and the beginning of many great friendships! what more could you want?

Isa had traveled long and far, but at last, her goal stood before her. Far off in the distance, in the low, arid valley, a massive sphere loomed, as grey and white as the unfavorable storm clouds floating around it. The final stretch of road lay long and low ahead of her, a beaten path taken by whatever other pilgrims had come seeking the Traveler.  
_Guess that's all I am now,_ she thought. _Just another pilgrim._  
She revved up her motorbike and sped down the mountain path. 

The valley's heart revealed a small village, a smattering of huts. As Isa drew near to the patchwork of bonfires, voices rose in surprise and alarm.  
Two imposing men clad in silvery armor emerged from behind cover, one brandishing a rifle and the other a blade.  
"Hold, intruder!" said the blade-wielder, a red-bearded man with a grim look. "These people are under our protection. You'll go no further if you bear ill intent."  
Isa looked between this man and the other, a shorter, dark-skinned man with stubble lining his jaw. She shrugged.  
"My little friend here just wants to check out your big orb. Ball is life, y'know?"  
She was met with quizzical looks from the two men.  
"What's she talking about, Radegast? If--"  
The red-haired man shushed his companion, and pointed to Isa, where Mira had begun to float at her shoulder.  
"You see?" The Ghost replied, chipper as could be. "I told you, you'll meet others like you."  
"Others…" Isa glanced at the two men. "Who are you?"  
The one called Radegast carried himself firmly and proudly as he spoke.  
"We are the Iron Lords."

*** 

Upon learning that Isa and her Ghost were decidedly not hostile, Radegast and the other man let her into the large camp. It was full of people, ordinary civilians, covered in dirt and fear. Occasionally, Isa would catch sight of another Ghost buzzing around - sometimes aimlessly, as though hoping to find its charge among the settlement's dead and dying, or with purpose, returning to its Chosen, as Mira had called them.  
"How many like us are here?" Isa asked Radegast.  
"In my little band," Radegast chuckled, "there are four. You've met Saladin already," he said, gesturing to the taciturn fellow at his side, "and Perun and Jolder are around here somewhere. Besides them, there is one other like us who claims to have heard the call of the Traveler. I think the people here have taken a liking to him." Radegast pointed at a white-robed man, his face obscured by a mask as he delivered a soothing speech that enraptured those in attendance. Isa could only make out bits and pieces of the sermon, but it seemed hopeful and uplifting, yet wary. 

Isa lingered for a while in this small settlement. There was something about it that stirred her heart. These people - her people, in fact, the remnant of humanity, had been broken maybe even beyond repair. Yet here they gathered, singing hymns and crying and comforting one another under the shadow of their dying god. It was really quite something.  
"The Traveler gave me the power to defend myself," Isa mused, sitting alone with Mira floating at her side. "In the desert, I called upon that power. And...and that was how you found me," she murmured, now gently cradling her first friend in this new life.

"So...now we're here. We wouldn't have gotten this far without the Light. I don't think it's a thing worth worshiping and bowing down to," Isa muttered, glancing at the throng of people still gathered around the robed man, "but it's something I can wield and use to protect these people. This last bastion of bonfires, if it all flickers out and dies, I think all our hopes go with it." She stood up, resolved to speak with Radegast again. "There's something - I don't know if it was from...before now, before me, or what, but… something tells me to not let hope die. To kindle that flame until it's as bright as anything. If these "Iron Lords" have much the same goal, I see no harm in throwing my lot in with them."

At the settlement's far end, she found Radegast and Saladin, along with two women clad in similar armor. The shorter of the two, a lithe figure clad in a green hooded cloak, nodded to Isa as she approached. "You must be the other Lightbearer Radegast mentioned," she said, her dark eyes gleaming.  
"That's me," Isa replied. Lightbearer? I like the sound of that.  
"Name's Perun," the other woman answered. "What do we call you?"  
"I'm Isa," answered Isa, since she knew no other name and it still seemed right.  
At this, the other woman, taller even than Isa, spoke up. "Well, let me be the first to welcome you. I'm Jolder, and I love a good fight. Speaking of, we're liable to have one hell of a battle on our hands soon enough." She grinned. "Can we count on you to protect these people?"  
Isa's heart skipped a beat as Jolder spoke directly to her and looked her in the eyes.  
"Uh huh," she replied without thinking. "I, uh, I mean, yes of course," she corrected herself.  
"Good," Jolder grinned. "We've had our eye on at least two others who have flocked to the Traveler, Lightbearers like us. Alongside you," Jolder nodded at Isa, "I think they'll work well."  
"We'll need to bolster our ranks," said Saladin. "These settlements and survivors are being threatened not only by warmongers wielding the Light, but also creatures from another world, who came seeking the Traveler."  
"I've seen them," Isa spoke up. "Four arms, four eyes, and a whole lotta anger. I fought some of them in the desert, across the sea. They killed me - but my Ghost returned me to life," she said, while Mira bobbed up and down eagerly.  
"Yes… the Light is a powerful tool, that much we've learned," Radegast said, idly stroking his beard. "We can rise again and again when slain...unless…"  
"Unless…?" Isa raised an eyebrow.  
"If our Ghosts, our faithful little drones, were to die with us, there would be no coming back."  
"Safe to assume that if the Ghost dies, it takes all the Light's power with it," added Perun. "So we must be ever cautious."  
"Warlords on one side… these alien creatures on the other… and we're in this valley, not well defensible if an attack comes roaring through the mountains," Jolder sighed.  
"How many Warlords are there?" asked Isa. "And where have you seen those other things? My Ghost said they'd fallen far to reach us."  
"Fallen...as a good a name as any," Radegast mused. "Both Warlord and these… Fallen alike are drawn to the Traveler. At least two other Lightbearers have dominion not far from here. From what we've seen of them, they'll sit up in their towers, and lord over their mortal subjects." Radegast grew impassioned as he continued to speak. "With powers like ours, we should be living amongst the survivors of humanity and protecting them! Not driving them into the dirt! That's why we're going to overturn every last Warlord's holdings! That's why we're going to fight until all of us know freedom! That's why we're going to establish a safe and strong foothold here for humanity! That's why we're the Iron Lords!"  
A cheer went up from the others, including Isa, whose heart was stirred to defend this last bastion of hope.  
"Soon," Radegast rumbled, "the Warlords will send their thralls." He drew his sword, and it shone in the moonlight, as bright as any star. "But we will answer. We will meet their challenge with a call of our own. At dawn, prepare."  
The four soon dispersed, leaving Isa standing there wondering just what she'd gotten herself into.

***

Dawn came swiftly, it seemed, and with it, a voice outside the tent Isa had slept in.  
"Hey! Waken yourself!" It was Perun. "We're to ride out to battle soon. You'll need proper armor and weapons, not that junk you showed up in!" The other woman poked her head through the tentflaps, and Isa, now sitting up, got her first good look at Perun. Curly black hair framed a weathered face, streaked with green warpaint. She grinned toothily at Isa. "C'mon, now, you don't wanna keep ol' redbeard waiting, do you?"

In the grassy field not far from the camps and fires, Isa met with the other Iron Lords.  
"We have something for you," Radegast told her, holding out a breastplate of steel, and a sword not unlike the one he wore at his hip. "Wear these well," the Lords' leader, first among equals, said, "and you may indeed earn the right to be one of us."  
Isa accepted the armor, and found it fit well over her weathered jacket - certainly offered more protection, at least. The sword and belt she took, and girt it at her side. "I have this, too," she said, holding up a rusted shotgun - something she'd salvaged from a ruined camp on her way through the mountains.  
"Old and worn," Radegast remarked, studying the weapon, then handing it back. "But no matter. Do what you can, in the coming battle. Understand that we must fight tooth and nail against our Warlord foe. Salvage the slain's weapons and turn them against him."  
A horn rang out, from far off, and another soon answered it, from within the camp.  
"There's our cue," Saladin said, his face grim. "Let's move."

***

The battle was joined, quicker than expected. The Warlord's men came from over the mountain and descended upon the field. Many of them were poorly armed, Isa noticed, and covered and dirt and grime.  
_So this high and mighty enemy sends us mere cannon fodder,_ she thought, ducking under a fearsome axe swing and letting her new blade test itself against the poor bastard's ribcage. Yanking the blade free, she turned to see another man, sweating and yelling profusely, rush at her with a shotgun. She cleaved in a wide arc, sending the aggressor to writhe in the grass.  
A short distance away, Radegast's own sword, nigh unbreakable and polished to a fine sheen, cut through the massed enemy ranks. Jolder's fists surged with electric Light as she smashed opposing warriors to dust. Saladin's axe reaped through charging pikemen as though they were nothing more than particularly annoying and pointy stalks of wheat. Perun darted in and out of the battle, a blade in one hand, a gun in the other. Her eyes were like that of a hawk, surveying the wide battlefield, and deriving a kind of order from the chaotic shouting and crashing of battle. She knew exactly where to go, unfolding the enemy's weaknesses as though it were a sixth sense.  
Isa's blade found purchase in the skull of one wielding a longrifle. She grabbed the gun, and shoved its bayonet into the chest of another gunman.  
By now at least forty men lay dead around the Iron Lords. But Isa reckoned there were still more than half left. A thunderous roar came from behind her, and she was knocked to the ground, seeing a massive, raging warrior towering over her. This one seemed better outfitted than many of his comrades, wearing armor of finer quality. He raised two axes, frothing at the mouth, and Isa hastily brought up her sword to parry the blow. As she got to her feet, her opponent lashed out again, and very nearly connected this time, leaving a gash across Isa's cheek.  
She stepped forward, swinging her blade, but stopped short when she saw that the berserking warrior was jerking about unnaturally, and that was when she noticed the blade emerging from his chest. That wasn't the strange part. The strange part was when it burst into flames, taking the impaled warrior with it.  
As the charred corpse in melted armor clattered to the ground, the blade's owner was revealed: a young woman, with hair as red as the flames that danced around her, eyes of a bright jade color, and skin only a shade or two lighter than Isa's.  
"Hello," she spoke, her voice lilting. "I see you bear the same mark as we do - a Lord in waiting, if you will. My name is Skorri. What shall I call you?"  
"I'm Isa," Isa spoke, meeting Skorri's alert green eyes and thinking of the forest that Mira had found her in, among other things. She blinked, feeling a faint blush coming to her face.  
"So. Uh. Skorri… lovely war we're having, yeah?"  
The other woman laughed, a sound like ringing bells. "You're a funny one, you are. This is a skirmish if anything. Fool Warlord sends his vassals to impale themselves on our blades."  
"Save the chatter for later, or least 'til we thin their ranks some more," came a raspy voice from a few feet away. Clad in a tattered grey cloak, a thin man with a roguish look wrenched his knife free of a fallen foe's skull.  
"Ignore Gheleon," Skorri said with a knowing grin. "He likes to sit about and gripe, that one." 

With the timely arrival of Skorri and Gheleon, the tide seemed to turn. The fighting continued harshly in their corner, and Isa observed the fluid and graceful movement and swift strikes of the other two.  
It seems like I still have much to learn.

As many of the Warlord's thralls lay dead or fled, the rest lay down their arms, and surrendered. The Iron Lords gathered in the field, claiming the spoils of victory.  
"So. The storm has lifted," Skorri remarked.  
"Indeed," said Perun, her eyes scanning the horizon. "I think this was but a test. Our Warlord foe merely judged our strength, with this force. Perhaps he is hesitant to commit."  
"Then I say we march on his land and tear down his throne," Jolder boastfully declared.  
"In time, all Warlords will fall. After all, we have something they don't," Radegast reminded them, "and that is unity. Think about it - how many times have you all seen Warlords scrabbling and fighting each other over territory, over ideals, over practically anything? We are united in our goal."  
"And speaking of that," Saladin cut in, "I think it's time we honor three new members, Iron Lords joined like the knights of old."

Several hours later, as the moon began to rise, Isa, Skorri, and Gheleon stood before the four Iron Lords.  
"So be it," spoke Radegast. "You are each one of us now. May you stand at each other's back, ready to defend your allies. May you fight with the strength of ten. May you prove worth of the title of Iron Lord!"  
A cheer went up from the other three, and from the watching civilians. Isa laugh heartily and realized that she was beginning to think, _Hey, this is where I could belong. This is how I can kindle that flame of hope._

In the days to come, she would prove herself right.


	3. Entwined

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Isa and Skorri are sent into a mysterious Warlord's territory on a diplomatic mission.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hey there! this update comes after several months of me being burnt out on Destiny. within the past few weeks, though, I've gotten back into it and resolved to pick up this fic again. This chapter's a longer one, with another OC of mine appearing. I hope you all enjoy, and know that there's more chapters, and more fics, on the way! <3

Isa had been resting at the well-fortified Iron Temple, enjoying a brief respite… but there was always cause for action. Skorri stood looking down at the taller woman who lay lounging, enjoying fresh fruit - a rarity in those times - and plucked the orange from Isa's hand.  
"Hey!"  
Skorri chuckled. "You have to earn your keep like the rest of us, you know." She levitated the orange, noticing with a smirk that it was much the same color and shape as her Light-forged grenades.  
"And have I not?" Isa stood, quirking an eyebrow, looking a bit more amused than annoyed, placing her hands on her hips.  
"You have," Skorri admitted with a more genuine smile, "but, there's a reason I came to find you. Felwinter and Timur have asked for you specifically."  
"Me?"  
"Yes! It's apparent to anyone who's spent time around you, Isa, that you have a certain air and charisma about you. I--"  
"One fit to be immortalized in the Iron Song, hmm?" Isa teased - now it was her turn to smirk.  
Skorri sighed. "Not if you keep on like that. Just.. come down to the main hall with me."  
Isa stretched, rolling her shoulders as she followed Skorri.

In the wide hall, gathered at the low, round table, Felwinter and Timur sat, and Felwinter looked up as Isa and Skorri walked in.  
"There you are." Warm recognition flickered in Felwinter's industrial-orange eyes, his horned helmet resting on the table. Timur next to him grinned roguishly. 

"Good to see you, Isa," Timur said, though his eyes were unfocused and his straw-colored beard was unbraided and unkempt . "Has Skorri told you of our mission?"

"I thought I'd save the surprise for later," laughed Skorri.  
"The surprise," Felwinter grumbled, "is that the Warlord who sent militiamen against us when all we had was muddy camps beneath the Traveler? Whoever it is, they are still out there. Biding their time. We only know it's a hooded and robed figure called "the Archon", who rarely leaves their tower far to the west of here. However, they seem to entertain many guests, and other Lightbearers as well - fellow Warlords. To have a dominion like that they must be either well-loved by their subjects or feared greatly. We don't quite know yet… but if we're going to fortify this place, as well as the city now springing up underneath the Traveler's gaze… we have to wipe all these Warlords out."  
Isa blinked. That was by far the most words she'd heard Felwinter speak at once.  
"So that's what this is about?" she asked. "Sending us to assassinate this Archon?"

"Not exactly…" Timur admitted. "Not yet, anyhow. We want to test the waters… well, I do." At this, Felwinter frowned.  
"Radegast has gotten a bit too lax recently," the Exo griped. "Something something Iron Decree…"  
Timur shrugged. "If it comes to violence, it'll be two Lightbearers versus one - assuming this Archon doesn't have any guests. Four versus one, if Felwinter and I make it there in time."  
"Indeed. We have a lead we need to follow up on, but we'll join you both there once we're done."  
"A lead?" Skorri asked. "On what, might I ask?"

Timur grinned. "Another golden age."

***

Outfitted with provisions and supplies, as well as potential gifts for the Warlord, offerings of fellowship, Isa and Skorri set off through the snow, making the winding journey west, passing through harsh terrain - dead trees whose branches hung heavy in cloaks of frost, snowdrifts up to their knees, and biting, bitter-cold winds which seemed to seep through their fur cloaks. Whenever the cold let up - and it was rare that it did so - Skorri would hum a few bars of the Iron Song she'd been working on, and it lifted both their spirits.

When night fell, the two would stop, organizing a quick, makeshift camp, and huddle together for warmth while they slumbered amidst the snow. Though Isa never really spoke on it, she was certain Skorri could sense the taller woman's somewhat bashful blush as she pressed closer to Skorri perhaps not so much out of necessity.

Snow fell on the third day of their journey. A light, wispy fall that nonetheless came to slowly coat their cloaks as the two Iron Lords drew nearer to the Archon's domain. The craggy grey structure almost blended in with the bleak sky, and the two of them had their lunch, composed of simple rations, in the shadow of the tower that loomed on the horizon. 

Horizon soon became tangible reality, as the worn, beaten dirt road widened, becoming a ground path of gravel. Their boots crunched the terrain as the tower drew nearer and nearer, and Isa and Skorri now saw the assortment of small structures around it. Ranging from a collection of threadbare, fraying tents, to a few straw-roofed dwellings raised when time were less lean, Isa noticed as the two approached that the people here were cut from the same cloth as those now raising walls under the Traveler. That is to say, scared, dirty, and penniless. Though money meant little anymore, at least to Isa and her friends. Most folks bartered once again like they had in the early days of mankind.  
Suffice it to say that these people were frightened, and like the others across the sea and those sheltered under Felwinter's mountain, they had turned to a higher power to ensure their safety. Granted, many of them seemed left out in the cold - in both a literal and figurative sense.

As Isa and Skorri drew near, the people watched warily, but especially the two guards who stood beside an iron portcullis, spears in hand. Their armor was battered and rusty, but it was still leagues better than tattered clothing, and they seemed well-fed and heartier than most of the other people present.  
_Likely what living in the lap of this Warlord gets you,_ Isa thought.  
"State your business," a square-jawed, beady-eyed guard grumbled. "The Archon isn't receiving any visitors at this time."  
Isa presented the golden trinkets with feigned deference. "Not even a pair of fellow Lightbearers with gifts to offer, and promise of a bountiful friendship?"  
The guard squinted. "Right, whatever, go on in. It's on your head, though." He glanced at his compatriot, who shrugged and stepped back, letting Isa and Skorri proceed into the keep.

Once inside, Isa noted how similar it seemed to Felwinter Peak in design.  
_Felwinter himself was a Warlord,_ she mused. _Perhaps they all swapped stonemason's secrets?_  
Several more guards lined the walls, spears, swords, or guns at the ready, as Isa and Skorri approached the throne. One who could only be the Archon sat, almost lazily reclining, on the ornately carved stone seat - a figure clad in black tattered robes, with gauntlets of steel and a polished horned helm of dark metal.  
"So the Iron Wolves come howling at my door," the Warlord remarked in a vaguely feminine, raspy voice. "There are no scraps here for your kind… Felwinter made that clear."  
"Honored Archon," Isa began, once again putting on her act of deference, "we come not to beg for scraps but to offer you tokens of the Iron Lords' esteem, and to propose an alliance we believe will be mutually beneficial."  
The Archon's expression, as well as the rest of her save a vague shape, was indeterminable. "Speak."  
_Uh oh. Didn't think we'd even get this far. Stall, Isa, stall!_

Isa cleared her throat. "Many of the other Warlords have either met their end at our hands, or have joined up with us, like Felwinter or Shaxx. We would be honored to have a resourceful and crafty soul such as yourself join our ranks."  
The Archon scoffed. "The bloodthirsty meathead and the defunct Exo? Why am I not surprised they jumped ship that easily?"  
"Now, listen--" Skorri cut in, indignant. "Lord Shaxx is one of the smartest and most cultured people I've had the fortune of fighting alongside! You--"  
"Need I remind you," the Archon growled, the sharpened tips of her gauntlets' fingers scraping loudly against the stone arms of the throne, "that you are a guest in my hall. Curb your insolent tongue, Wolf, or I will curb it for you."  
Skorri glared but did not retaliate.  
"As for you," she continued, turning to Isa, "I'm certain these words are all made in good faith. Promises extended eagerly and truthfully. Yet… I will have to decline, I'm afraid. If your covenant with Shaxx and Felwinter is any indication," the Archon's rasp became low and deadly, "you would have me stripped of all my lands and vassals. That I cannot - will not - allow."

Isa nodded, fighting back a sinking feeling. "I see. Thank you for your time, Archon. If that's all, my comrade and I will hand these gifts over to your retainers, in hopes that you'll reconsider things, and then we'll take our leave."  
There came a dull thud as a large metal bar fell into place across the doorframe from which Isa and Skorri had entered, blocking their way.  
"I think not."  
The surrounding guards trained their weapons on the two Iron Lords.  
"Seize them, and bring me their Ghosts!"

Skorri readied her rifle, its staccato burst ringing out as one of the guards fell, and Isa drew her sword, hacking off the arm of the first foe to rush at her.  
Some brought rifles, some brought shotguns, and some brought bladed or blunt melee weapons, but a large number of the Archon's guard and soldiers - Isa guessed there were around twenty, maybe thirty - rushed at the pair, likely hoping to counter individual skill and use of the Light with sheer numbers.  
But they'd have to do better. 

Skorri drew her sword as well, sliding it between the armor plates of an advancing warrior, before sticking another with a fusion grenade and ducking out of the way as it went off, blasting a tightly clustered group to ash.  
Isa, meanwhile, beheaded an approaching challenger, but not before his sidearm found its mark. She stumbled backward, and another of the Archon's guards pressed the advantage, moving in with a spear. The resulting thrust grazed her bicep, and she groaned irritably, regaining control of her blade and bringing it down messily onto the enemy's helm.  
Skorri's revolver thundered as its bullets found their mark, dropping two more guards. A third rushed her with a shotgun and got a faceful of Solar light for his trouble.  
Both Lightbearers had taken some blows, but they remained strong against the onslaught.  
That was when the Archon rose from her throne, carrying in one hand a wickedly carved mace. She strode forward, her body crackling with electricity.  
Thunder rolled as she swung the mace, sending Skorri flying across the room, landing hard against the wall. The Warlord moved to finish the job, but Isa leapt forward, blade in hand, and cut a bloody swath through all in her path to reach the Archon.  
As she brought her sword down upon the midnight-clad figure, the Archon raised her morningstar, parrying the blow.  
"Gullible fools! Wretched wolves! Did you really think I would let you walk away alive?"  
"Perhaps not," Isa frowned, "but I'll fight to the bitter end anyway."

"That end will come swifter than you imagine," the Warlord growled, opening her palm and a fierce, focused blast of lightning came surging out, a bright blue beam that very nearly vaporized Isa. Her sword, quickly brought up to parry, absorbed much of the blast and was disintegrated, sending Isa hurtling backwards, with only a shattered sword-hilt clattering to the floor.  
Rising, reaching for her shotgun, for the Light, anything… Isa stood, despite everything.  
"And still you get up," the Archon grumbled. "Both of you, so insufferable. I will not stand for this indignity any longer."  
The Warlord was interrupted by a rumbling blast, as the front doors of her hall were blown open, purple Void energy swirling around Felwinter as he strode inside, followed by Timur.  
"Sorry we're late," Timur quipped.  
"At least we don't have to bother with diplomacy now," Felwinter remarked. "I hate those kinds of meetings - there's a reason I sent you two."

Her rage becoming more and more incoherent, the Archon unleashed another blast of Arc energy, lightning crackling and dancing forth, focused into a wide killing beam.  
Timur was unprepared and caught in the blast, his body disintegrating and his Ghost hovering in shocked silence, waiting to recompose his form.  
Timur's Ghost would have been obliterated there too, had it not been for Felwinter, who leapt up into the air, blinking through the Void. He delivered a resounding punch to the Archon's helm, enough to stun and annoy her, disrupting the beam of Arc and causing it to go wide, tearing a hole in the ceiling. The dislodged stone fell, crushing several of the Archon's guards beneath it and narrowly missing Isa.

By now, Skorri had recovered, fighting her way through what remained of the enemy soldiers to reach Felwinter and Timur.  
Isa, having come from the other side of the room, soon readied her shotgun, and it spoke in a voice like thunder, blasting the Archon to the ground, where she lingered for only a moment, before flinging two grenades in the direction of the Iron Lords.  
"Curse the Wolves! Curse the damned Traveler!"

The ordnance went off with a sound like a thunderclap and it was all they could do to avoid being caught in its blast. By the time the three had righted themselves, the Archon had vanished.  
Timur's Ghost buzzed, and a moment later, his body emerged, slender and youthful, clad in the same green and gold robes. He frowned. "Bastard caught me by surprise. Won't happen again."  
"Hope not," Felwinter said. "Where'd the Archon go?"  
Isa shrugged. "That grenade was the perfect smokescreen. And now we know two things about our enemy. One, she's quite powerful, if a bit cowardly. Two, she's got nowhere to run. I say we chase her down and finish what we started."  
"Cowardly? Maybe. Seems more like pragmatism to me," Felwinter suggested. "I know I wouldn't want to face four angry Lightbearers all at once like that." He rolled his shoulders. "As much as I'd enjoy hunting down another Warlord… I think we have more important things to pursue, for now."  
"Oh?" Skorri raised an eyebrow. "Such as?"  
"City-building, for one. Timur and I learned about something earlier that may well change everything. But for now, we fortify our defenses. Many of the Warlords are dead or fled, but we still have those Fallen creatures to worry about. Let's head back to the Iron Temple and feast - in your honor!"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> like what I do? come visit my tumblr @lesbian-pyrrha


	4. Onslaught

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Isa helps to rebuild a City that is in dire need of protectors. The chance will come for her to stand among those heroes, when this bastion of humanity suffers its first attack...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter's a bit of a long one! It's got... multiple POV, for sure. I'm here to deliver the gay shit *and* the epic space-fantasy wars. I think I succeeded.

The morning sun rose high on the Last Safe City, bathing the workers in the warm, dry climate. Bricks and mortar were pushed into place, refined stone was raised. It was unmistakably the beginning of a wall - the promise of protection. The newly christened Stoneborn Order were the ones leading the effort, steadfast and strong.  
It had been decades, maybe even a century or two, since the last Warlords had been put down or pushed back into their holes. With their only opposition being the occasional Fallen raid, the settlements beneath the Traveler had blossomed into a beautiful and courageous young city, a domain emblematic of humanity taking its first steps after the long fall.  
With the Warlords gone, many Lightbearers took up the charge of defending humanity. The Iron Lords were at the forefront of this effort, but they were not the first group: The Pilgrim Guard, the Takanome Rangers, the Six Coyotes… all the start of something greater. The Risen had finally become guardians of the people. 

Isa laid another brick of stone, pressing it firmly into place. With this section of the wall's foundation nearly down, she took a step back, glancing at the others around her. In the months since the City had more or less officially risen, the various Guardians - for that was indeed what people were beginning to call them - had at once both broadened and specialized. Three distinct paths had cropped up, philosophies of sorts. 

There were the Titans, who fought in armor of repurposed plasteel, frontline combatants and mighty warriors. There were the Hunters, swift and sure-handed wandering heroes whose brand of bravery was wholly unique - rangers and scouts, quick of blade and quicker of wit. There stood also the Warlocks, clever and cunning warrior-scholars whose mind is their greatest weapon, always pushing beyond the boundaries of what is known.  
Many Guardians who had only recently been resurrected or who were just now coming into their own counted themselves among these three disciplines. People like Isa and the rest of her fellow Iron Lords, were a bit of an exception to the rule, having been around well before Lightbearers set up any sort of firmly established society.

Isa glanced over at the Stoneborn, an Order of Titans who had taken it upon themselves to raise walls around the city. They had rallied Guardians and civilians alike to help in the effort.  
"All right," one of the Stoneborn called out, "that's some good work so far. Take a rest - you've all earned it. Remember, this City is all ours to share and protect."  
Isa nodded, bidding farewell to the others and making the journey back to the Tower - the mighty stronghold of all Guardians, where the Speaker for the Traveler and the Vanguard resided.  
The Speaker was a soft-spoken but firm man, unwavering in his faith of the Traveler and the Light. Isa remembered vaguely meeting him back when the City was but a patchwork of refugee campfires.  
The Vanguard, however, were a new creation, something that inevitably came with the stratification of Guardians: three that were each exemplars and mentors of their chosen discipline: the Titan Vanguard Saint-14, eccentric yet noble; the Warlock Vanguard Osiris, once a pupil of Felwinter and Nirwen, now as legendary as they; and the Hunter Vanguard Tallulah Fairwind, daring and independent, able to rally her fellow Hunters like none other. 

_They all seem like fine folks,_ Isa thought as she transmatted down into the Tower, heading for the recently-erected Hall of Guardians. _This is truly a time of heroes. Out of the long dark and into the shining future._

The Tower, the Vanguard, the many orders and groups of Guardians that had all cropped up… it was enough to make her want to worship the Traveler like most of them did. Though Isa didn't exactly miss the old days of those dark times, struggling in the dirt, just fighting to survive, she hadn't had the time recently to catch up with her brothers and sisters in Iron. That said, as she rounded the corner into the Hall, there was one person in particular she was hoping to see.  
"Skorri! There you are!"  
The Sunsinger beamed as she heard Isa's voice, turning to greet her, and laughing softly as the taller woman pulled her into a warm embrace. "It's good to see you, Isa. It's been… months? A year? I've been away at Felwinter Peak still. But.. it's worth it to come out here."  
"Just to see me?"  
"Flatterer," Skorri laughed, pulling away from the hug. "Although… that's definitely a plus. No, it's just… this is everything we've worked for! It's finally starting to take shape, isn't it? I think it's wonderful… to see it all spring up."  
"I agree!" Isa's grin was radiant. "But we must never waver."  
"No, of course not. Like I could dissuade you from ever laying down your blade."  
"Ahh, good point. I do intend to take a bit of a rest, though. Maybe grab a bit of an early lunch. Care to join me?"  
It was Skorri's turn to grin. "Right now, I'd love nothing more."

The two of them relaxed in a fairly shady, secluded area of the Tower's wide plaza, sipping maté and eating sweet rolls made from cassava. Lounging on the benches, Isa swapped stories with her fellow Iron Lord.  
"There was this one time, in the, uhh... Panama Ravine, I think it's called?" she was saying. "I was protecting a caravan of refugees coming down from the north. Fallen closed in on all sides. We fought 'em off, but not before one of them damn near cut this poor traveler in half. There wasn't a thing I could do. A few hours later, we'd patched up survivors, so I made ready to bury the fella, but then all the others turned to watch as, you guessed it, a Ghost came buzzing down the path. He landed right on that barely-cold corpse and up he came, easy as you please, like he'd just had the warmest bath on the planet, and that was that. It was a strangely humbling thing to watch, honestly."  
"I can only imagine. To be reborn, and meet people who knew you before… but now you don't know them." Skorri bowed her head, pausing to take another sip of her maté. "They can tell you about the life you lead, but.. It cannot truly fill that void, only paint over the scar."

Isa stood, and looked out over the horizon - the mountain range that ran along what seemed like the whole continent. She was silent for a long moment, and she held that silence as she turned to Skorri, now standing next to her, and her heart fluttered at the way the sunlight danced upon the Warlock's face and glittered in her green eyes. She shifted closer, her face flushed.  
"With how powerful we Guardians are, with the vast array of weapons and powers at our fingertips… strength and physique infused by the Light… all but immortal… and yet, I know how easy it can be, to get lost in that, to forget everything, even the fear of death. We may forget even the simple things… love and loss, food and drink…"  
She met Skorri's gaze, Isa's warm amber eyes staring into her cool jade ones. 

"What I mean is… I don't want to forget you. Even then, I don't think I could. You stand out, among all the battles, all the comrades, all the words of wisdom… you were there when we Iron Lords first stood as equals, and you were there all throughout our campaign to end the Warlords' rule. You've… you've been a constant comforting presence in the back of my mind, especially lately…" Isa blushed brighter, yet still held the other's gaze. "I don't know if you hold the same feelings, but… I care for you greatly. It's been my honor to be by your side these many years of battle, and maybe, now as the garden of peace blooms… we can stand together, in a different kind of way."  
Skorri was silent for a moment, then grinned. "Oh, Isa, you didn't have to get all poetic on me like that, now."  
"Oh, but I did," Isa chuckled. "Who do you think I got it from?"  
The Warlock leaned in close. "Keep talking like that, and I'll-"  
"You'll what?" Isa was unbearably smug. "Kiss me on the m--"  
Their lips met.

Skorri leaned forward, smiling into the kiss, her heart beating like a Fallen war-drum.  
Isa deepened the kiss, and her arms slid around Skorri's slender neck, as though it were already second nature.  
Giggling in a way most unbefitting of Iron Lords, the two slid apart.  
"That's how you feel, huh?" Isa said with a laugh.  
"Better believe it." Skorri idly ruffled Isa's hair.

Isa was about to reply with something equal parts playful and sincere, but an alarm blared, accompanied by the garbled PA. Those nearby, be they Guardian or civilian, jumped up in alarm. Isa could scarcely make out the words, but she caught "Fallen" and "six phalanxes" and "approaching swiftly", and, by the Traveler, that was all she needed to hear. The half-baked, steamy wisps of what she had in mind involving Skorri would have to wait. Together, both Guardians sprinted back to the Hall, where the Vanguard likely gathered.

Indeed, Saint-14, Osiris, and Tallulah stood around that angular table, and through the large reinforced window could be seen figures far below, marching across the barren plains. In the distance, great purple orbs - Servitors of the Fallen - could be seen floating alongside the approaching warband.  
"Look," Saint-14 rumbled, gesturing to the multiple screens, showing other areas around the City. "Our walls are very nearly constructed, and yet… they approach us from all six fronts."  
"Indeed," came the voice of Zavala, a Titan, ever calm and collected. It seemed he had learned much alongside the likes of Saint and Radegast, or from Saladin and Shaxx. "So, the Fallen have mounted their first offensive on the City… I have fought against them since my Ghost first found me, but I have yet to see an attack of this scale."  
"Nor I," remarked Osiris, donning his feathered hood. "The question is - can we hold back six enemy advances all at once?"  
Saint laughed, heartily clapping the Warlock on the back. "Of course we can, brother! Trust in the Traveler and its gift, and in the strength of those around us!"  
Osiris said nothing.  
Tallulah bit her lip, brushing her dark, curly hair out of her eyes.

"If I may, Saint?" Radegast remarked. "Many of the Iron Lords are already patrolling down below, as are the Stoneborn. If you'll let me take the Firebreak Order as well, we can cover at least two fronts with strong Titans."  
"Very good," Saint boomed. "I will lead the Chain into battle at another front, as well."  
Shaxx, eager to crack skulls in defense of the City, leaned forward, placing his gauntleted hands on the table. "I will take the First Pillar Titans. I'm sure they're itching to throw themselves against our foe."  
"I'll round up our Hunters," Tallulah remarked, almost sort of bouncing in one place, eager to get a move on. "Get some snipers posted up… see if we can't man some of that heavy artillery as well."  
"If it even still works," replied Osiris, earning a glare from the Hunter Vanguard.

"I'll stand with you, Radegast," Isa spoke up.  
"Of course you will!" he laughed. "The Iron Lords ride again, eh? Just like old times. Let's get down there and show the Fallen that we will not be broken!"  
Isa and Skorri followed Radegast down to the battlefield, where the rest of the Iron Lords were massing. 

***

The Eliksni forces loped over the barren southern scrubland, coming within sight of the enemy forces - the thieves who stood arrayed against them, clinging to the Great Machine.  
The brave Kel, Drifis the Daring, drew up, boldly boasting: "'Twas Whirlwind whisked us to this war-weary world! We galloped the galaxy to grasp the Great Machine! It is not our fate to fall on this field!"  
This brought a raucous cheer, everyone from Drekh to Baron, stood as one, forgetting any grievances, any grudges, in honor of their goal, if only for just a moment. Whooping with delight and battle-fury, they went.  
Forward they marched: Vililiks the Unvanquished, Vithriks, and Vithiliks; Pirthis and Pithax, called Peerless and Psirris-Slayer; Rilliks the Revenger and Erivir the Righteous. 

***

The Stoneborn stood strong, the City's truest protectors. Fallen fell upon the Guardians, swarming from the North, South, from every direction imaginable, it seemed. Six fierce, mighty forces of Fallen clashed with the City's finest warriors - steadfast Titans, daring Hunters, skilled Warlocks. The sky and the ground shook with the mighty force of Light.

To the West, Saint-14, responding to the first blood drawn by the Fallen, crashed down, creating with his hands a great circular ward, projected around him. The fireteam of Guardians backtracked into the half-circle, feeling the protective Void wash over them. Stepping out from the shield, Saint readied his shotgun and strode into the fray. 

To the North, the front warped, bending, then broke. Two Hunters rushed to hold the line as Osiris, cloaked in a golden shimmer, rushed forward. Projections of Light, faint golden outlines of the Warlock Vanguard, split and moved, one now standing at every front as Osiris himself moved through the air, gliding effortlessly above the battlefield, weaving the flame of his Light into a beautiful and terrible blade.

To the East, the newly-made Wall shudders, then gives way, breached! Osiris took flight, descending in flame to join with Tallulah and Efrideet, who covered his fiery advance with resounding shots from their sniper rifles.  
In the sky, flame and fury as Osiris split a Servitor in twain.  
On the ground, the earth shook with might as Shaxx thundered forth, with all the fury of a missile, landing amongst a mass of Dregs. He stood, wreathed in lightning, and charged their line.

To the South - Saladin and Isa were surrounded. Caught under waves of wretches, for the bulk of the Fallen's shock troops had massed there. Breaking the jaw of a Dreg with a punch, Isa drew her iron and put a round between the eyes of a Marauder.  
"There seems to be no end to them," she grunted, drawing upon her Light and raising her Iron Axe to meet the rising tide of Dregs.  
"Maybe so. But we stand together!" Saladin rallied the Lords, drawing his own axe, and beside the two of them came Skorri and Gheleon, their Light burning brightly. 

***

Radegast rode forward, leading his contingent of Firebreak into the ground already scorched by Fallen. Three miles he rode, then four, and then at five, a mighty Baroness leapt out into the fray, snarling a war-song as her smaller comrades drew up around her, to halt Radegast's charge. 

***

Kiriviks King-Killer rallied the rabble, laughing and jeering, as she sought to stay Rahdigask's hand. Twelve rikhas he had come, and no further. With shock rifles in hand, Kiriviks and her retainers surged forth, striking against Rahdigask and his doughty Dihdans.  
Thoughts of a home reclaimed occupied her mind as she carved through the enemy's formation. It was this that spurred her onward, and Kiriviks hoped the Great Machine, hanging in the sky, would see her people's victory tonight, etched into the sea and stars.  
The Firebreak foe drew back fearfully, their ranks in ruin. 

Soon, their barriers would break, and Kiriviks marched forth, laughing and singing in victory to the sphere above. Joy filled her heart, and then she burned with a white-hot flame, the fire of... of victory?  
No!  
It was too hot, much too fearsome! In agony, she looked to the sky, and saw, overhead - Osiriks, the wretched Wirliks, unwatched as he wove his way through the skies!  
He landed, burning blade in hand, and cleaved once more, ending Kiriviks's fiery suffering and scattering Ether to ash.

***

Fire and thunder smote the ravaged, burned land of the Guardians as Radegast and his detachment of the Firebreak Order surged onward, emboldened by Osiris's slaying of the Baroness, cheering their combined banner, and taking up the cry, as Fallen reinforcements arrived: "Hold the fronts!"

This rallying cry spread like wildfire in a dry forest, from the North where Radegast reclaimed five miles of ground; to the South where the enemy broke upon blades of Iron; to the East where Shaxx ensured the Chain went unbroken; and the West where Saint-14 held strong, breaking Dreg and Baron alike. 

And not a single front faltered.

The smoke and fire raged on still, and Isa wrenched her sword from the carapace of a Vandal, only to behead the Captain that rushed her in a frenzy.  
A crackling noise echoed, in the short silence that followed. At first, Isa thought it was fire, until…  
"This is Shaxx! The enemy is in full retreat!"  
A cheer went up from the Iron Lords, and Isa gratefully embraced Saladin, then Skorri as well.  
"The Northern walls stand," Osiris's voice came over the comms. "I am needed."

"Shaxx? Hello? Western Fronts are clear. This is Saint-14."  
"Amazing!" Shaxx bellowed. "Then we march on the South!"  
Leaning on his axe, Saladin spoke into the comm channel. "The Fallen's southern approach has broken." Isa could hear such tangible relief in his voice. "The City holds."  
Silence hung for a moment yet again, until Shaxx, jovial as ever, crowed: "They thought they were going to crash in here, and kill all of us!"  
This earned laughter from the whole group. Another cheer.  
"All fireteams are accounted for," Osiris was saying. "No casualties."  
"Truly?" Isa spoke. "None at all?"  
"None permanent, at least," Saint boasted. "For every Guardian that fell, there was another who would lay down cover to claim their Ghost and revive them."  
"I could not have kept up my offense on all fronts, without the rest of you," Osiris admitted, though perhaps it wounded his pride to say so. "Well done, indeed."  
"Truly," Saint said. "Though, I had excellent cover."  
"I don't know how many times I died…" came Osiris's voice, softer. "I saw the battle through the eyes of the City. We were spread thin."  
"You fought hard, my brother," Saint consoled him. "Without you, we would all have been lost."  
"Some were."  
Osiris disconnected from the comm channel, and soon the others followed suit. 

After a moment, Saladin turned to Isa. "I could not have held this front without you. For years I fought beside Gheleon and Skorri, Felwinter and Timur, Jolder and Efrideet, Radegast and Perun. And you. But recently… you've built up such a fire inside your heart. I ask only one thing of you, Isa. Wherever you go, whatever you do… stoke that flame. Don't let it die."  
Isa bowed her head in soft, silent humility and acceptance.  
"Oh, and one other thing. For right now, we're all likely going to stay here and rebuild, but… afterwards, I've heard from Felwinter, before the battle. He says that his and Timur's research bore fruit. He wants us to meet him in the Iron Temple as soon as possible. Mentioned something called… SIVA?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The parts with Eliksni POV are inspired by a piece of lore from the Destiny Grimoire Anthology, Volume 2 - it's a war-song about Six Fronts, translated from Eliksni language. Check it out if you get the chance. It's seriously cool stuff.


	5. Glory

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Iron Lords venture into the Cosmodrome, in search of SIVA. What they find, and what transpires, will change the destiny of mankind for ages to come.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here we go! If you know the story of the Lords of Iron, then you likely have an idea where this is going. Buckle up - it's going to be a ride, for sure. This is far from the end for dear Isa, though.

"What'd you say it's called?" Silimar asked, leaning forward. "SIVA?"  
Felwinter nodded. "Aye. Did Timur not mention it to you?"  
The Stormcaller shrugged in response, while Silimar frowned, thinking.  
The other Iron Lords all exchanged glances. "Timur, you've been looking for this nanotech for ages, right?" Isa asked.  
"I have. Couldn't have done it without Felwinter, though. He was the one who found out where Site 6 was."  
"That I did. Not far from the Peak, in fact."  
"It's locked down, though," Saladin said, leaning back in his seat. "We have no idea what kind of security measures are in place. Besides, Golden Age tech is durable - we could be walking into a trap that was set centuries ago."  
"Believe me, I've infiltrated these kinds of places before. Hasn't been a problem yet."  
"No, but the mortar in our City walls is barely dry," Radegast added. "Who knows when the Fallen will try to muster again? That, and we know there's at least one Warlord still unaccounted for… this may not be the right time."  
Timur looked between the two of them. "What about this Warmind? From what I can tell, SIVA is under its protection. Don't think it'll take kindly to thieves."  
"We're not stealing anything," Felwinter said. "And I think I can communicate with Rasputin."  
"It's a computer," Jolder said. "It'll do what it's been programmed to do, no matter how clever your argument."  
"Rasputin's primary directive is to protect humanity," replied Felwinter. "He'll listen, I'm sure of it."  
"He," Timur said with a smirk. "How… personal."  
Felwinter sighed, and looked around at the other eight: Saladin, Radegast, Perun, Jolder, Isa, Skorri, Silimar, Timur…. Efrideet had left, not long ago. (Felwinter wasn't exactly sure why.)  
"Listen… with SIVA, we could build more cities. We could help more people." Felwinter felt, strangely enough, passion and pride swelling in his heart, and it seemed the others felt it too. "We could create a new Golden Age."

"He's right," said Skorri. "When you go to replant a forest, you don't stop after only a few saplings. Let us give back."

All were silent for a moment, growing, thinking, glancing amongst themselves. 

"The Golden Age isn't coming back," Saladin said. "But… you're right. SIVA could change the lives of those inside the City. It feels like a worthy risk, I'd say."

"Well, why not?" Perun added. "We don't want people thinking the Iron Lords have hung up their blades, after all. We're hundreds strong! I say we stride forth and claim this gift, if it is to be ours."  
"Hear, hear!" Isa said, and the others echoed their assent.  
"So be it," Radegast spoke, his countenance grim. "We march at dawn."

***

Marching out from Felwinter Peak, hundreds strong, the Iron Lords rode. Off they went, in search of SIVA.  
Felwinter's intel mentioned a "Site 6" and a "Replication Chamber", among other things. Despite whatever misgivings his fellows may have had, Felwinter seemed to wholeheartedly believe he could talk to Rasputin and make the Warmind understand. Perhaps the others were at least a bit uneasy, even if they trusted Felwinter, they certainly didn't trust Rasputin.

As Isa marched, strolling along next to Skorri, she thought it prudent to lift the spirits of those present. With a knowing glance at Skorri, she burst into song, a raucous, rolling melody, soon accompanied by her lover as well. The lyrics were her own, but she painted an inspiring, if fanciful picture of the Iron Lords and their battles… and the battle to come.

***

The snow fell lightly as the entourage of Iron Lords marched ever on. Taking a moment to drink from her canteen, Isa glanced behind her at the others.  
Ashraven, also called Tinasha-3; Bretomart the Dutiful; Colovance, pupil of Timur; Deidris, trustworthy as ever; Finnala the Fearless; Haakon Thrill-Seeker; Nirwen Righter-of-Foolish-Wrongs; Orimund and Tormod, most skilled among the smiths of Felwinter Peak; Weyloran and Frostmire; boastful Gunnora and bold Orewing; and many others whom Isa didn't recognize.  
But they all had one thing in common: to grasp steadily at a distant dream of humanity, and to fulfill that dream. It was for that reason, that they marched on the walls of the Cosmodrome, to see the nanotech reborn from Old Russia.

It was another day or two of long marching before the small army of Lords came within sight of the Cosmodrome's walls. Orewing, first to chart the Cosmodrome's mountains, was at the ready with their intricate maps, and they set off along the foot of the massive wall.

Isa leaned on her axe. "What do you think we'll find?" she asked Skorri.  
"Oh, I don't know," the Warlock replied. "Aside from SIVA? Could be just about anything. From what I can tell, it sounds like Rasputin had a great many weapons and tools at its disposal. Hopefully, it doesn't decide to throw the book at us, so to speak, and we can cooperate with the Warmind and use its weaponry to defend humanity - like it was supposedly built to do, right?"  
"You'd hope so," Isa mused. "Still… I'm not sure. I trust Felwinter, he trusts us… but, I keep wondering. We know so little about all this… what'll we do if things go south?"  
"Run and hide? We've come so far now, I hate to back down… in the end, I think we must stand together. The Traveler chose us for a reason, after all."  
Isa grasped Skorri's hand tightly. "Of course. I don't doubt that, and I never will. I have every faith in all of us. Even if we fall, we fall together, right? Then let our tattered banners stand as a testament to what we set out to accomplish."  
Skorri was about to reply, but then Orewing returned, a determined grin on their face. They'd found a way through the Cosmodrome wall, and beckoned for the others to follow.  
The hole blasted in the wall long ago, by some unknown force, was wide enough for two Lords each. So it was two by two they went. 

***

The harsh Russian wind was a low whistle as the procession of Iron Lords wound its way along the bottom of a ravine. It was midday. The high noon sun cast eerie shadows as those in front - Felwinter and Radegast - eventually stepped out of the canyon, into a long valley. Far, far ahead, so distant as to be scarcely peripheral, lay a pyramid-shaped structure, wreathed in smoke and crackling orange energy.  
Rasputin was awake.  
Felwinter stepped forward and cupped his hands to his face.  
"Warmind Rasputin!" he called across the great gap, his raspy voice echoing. "We are the Iron Lords! We come seeking your gift of SIVA. For centuries now we have strived to rebuild and protect this world, and we know that you were born to do the same. So I extend my hand to you in an offer of benefit and mutual aid - let us together reclaim humanity's lost glory, so that we may share in the fruits of that arduous labor."  
There was silence for a second.  
"Shouldn't we, you know, get closer?" Gheleon wondered aloud, half a quip, half genuine. "Don't see the need to shout ourselves hoarse."  
There was silence for two beats, four, then….  
A voice like thunder echoed.  
**Вернись ко мне, Сиддхартха.**

Primal, almost deific power surged through the sky and ground as a number of rockets fired off, and the assembled Lords quickly scattered. A few were caught in the initial blast.  
Their Ghosts, loyal as ever, darted away from the falling projectiles - strange satellites that stood as tall as three people, and even bigger around.  
There was a flurry of frantic Light as the three Iron Lords rose again, scrambling for cover like the rest. Rasputin launched another barrage, but this time his targets were mostly hidden away under rock and stone.  
"Well," Radegast said, grimacing, "this is it. We cannot afford to falter or fall here! For whatever reason, the Warmind didn't take kindly to our offer." The leader of the Iron Lords shot a sidelong glance at Felwinter, who, if he noticed, said nothing, seemingly lost in thought.  
"We go forward! I don't know what's waiting for us at the end of this journey, but we cannot go back," he said, indicating the freshly-collapsed ravine.  
With a grim resolve, they pushed onward.

The battle into the valley was long and arduous. Strange tendrils of bright, fleshy, meaty red lashed out, striking at the group.  
"SIVA!" Timur shouted, firing upon one of the nearest nanite tendrils. "Don't… don't let it touch you," the Stormcaller cautioned. Taking up a defensive position as they marched, the Iron Lords trained their guns on approaching SIVA tendrils.  
One Nightstalker faltered, his rifle's spray of bullets going wild as he wrestled with a tendril of SIVA. He barely had time to scream as the nanotech dragged him down, covering his body in bright red and drab grey. Shifting, twisting… changing.  
With a vengeful yell, a Titan charged in after his comrade, blade at the ready, hacking and slashing. But the same SIVA that coated his friend's form now wrapped around the warrior's sword, and legs, and soon everything else as it pulled him under - and this one had plenty of time to scream. 

Isa tried not to think about what fate awaited them if they failed, as her buckshot repelled a curved claw of ...something.  
She gasped as a tendril reached out, narrowly missing her… but grabbing the Ghost of the one next to her.  
His companion crushed in its grasp, the fresh-faced Iron Lord next to Isa went white with horror, his boots sliding in snow now thick with blood. He too was whisked away and consumed.  
Pale grey, skeletal forms emerged ahead to halt the army of Iron - hundreds, maybe even thousands of combat frames. Individually they were so easily cut down, but in such numbers...

The macabre struggle raged on. Cutting through the bleak valley, by a ruined oil tanker, Colovance rallied, his machine gun rumbling as he stood against a growing mass of frames. Dozens, hundreds, converged on the tanker, until Colovance ran out of bullets. Then he raised his fists and smashed them apart, battered them to pieces. It still wasn't enough.  
Colovance fell protecting Deidris and Birkir. But the same thing that killed him claimed their lives as well.

Tormod groaned, hefting his axe. Yet the fuels in its Solar cells were cold and grey, just like the snow and sky and the SIVA around him. Red and grey and so cold….  
The SIVA wrapped around anything it could grab, pulling it closer, consuming it, learning from it. As brave Tormod's axe was yanked away, he shut his eyes tight, feeling the nanite tendrils caress his neck…

Isa coughed and groaned, nearly stumbling over a body she soon recognized as Bretomart.  
_Damn it. How many more must die?_

Defeat was not something Ashraven had known before, and so she refused to let her heart plummet in despair. Calling for Haakon and Weyloran and Crimil to meet her at the bunker, she charged, cutting a path through the enemy. Her aim was to hole up in there, and get the old guns working again - draw fire away from the others. It was a bad (good?) idea, and a brave one, but also a doomed one. She barely made it fifty feet.

"Come on! We can make it!" Finnala shouted, hammer held high. "Push forward! Stand together! Not even Rasputin can stop--"  
A sniper round felled her.  
Finnala had been no stranger to death, because of how quick it was, and the Light came soon after, warm and bright and hopeful.  
"Get up, Finnala," Frostmire sobbed, paying no mind to the SIVA closing in. "Please, get up…"

Saladin, flanked by Perun and Isa, cleaved a combat frame in two with his mighty axe.  
"We should have been more careful," he growled. "We never should have contacted the Warmind. Trying to help… thought SIVA was the key. Hardly."  
Isa tossed a grenade, stepping back as it stuck to her target, blowing it to smithereens. Two more frames replaced it, and before Isa could strike them down, a bolt of Solar light cleaved them in half, melting the remains to slag.  
The source of the blast stepped forward. "Sorry I came alone. Let's make Orimund proud."  
"Skorri!" Isa's grin was wider and brighter than ever. "It's good to see you alive, _mera piara._ Let's make sure no one else falls today, huh?"

The three stood against the raging tide of Rasputin's weaponry, forming a rallying point for the others, who, in scattered groups, were dwindling fast.

"We've been fighting for days," Nirwen grumbled. "Weeks, even."  
"But we're close," Felwinter said, racking his shotgun. "Once we get to the replication chamber, we can…"  
"Save it." Nirwen shoved him back, towards where Saladin and the others rallied. "Go! I'll hold them off!"

Felwinter, burning with anguish, ran for the chokepoint.  
_I tried to communicate with Rasputin,_ he told himself. _I could make him understand. Tell him we meant no harm… he just… didn't answer with words._

Orewing, stumbling over the bodies of Gunnora and Bretomart, shakily readied their grenade launcher. The breechloaded weapon roared as it fired, and fired again, until SIVA answered in kind.

_I don't want to die. I don't want to die. I don't want to die. I don't want...._  
_Ghost? Ghost, where are you?_

The force the Iron Lords had brought into the Cosmodrome - numbering in the hundreds - was now so very few.  
Radegast, Saladin, Felwinter, Perun, Jolder, Gheleon, Skorri, Timur, Silimar, and Isa, their armor dented and their banners ripped and torn, limped along the final stretch. The mass of frames and swathes of SIVA had mostly calmed, but still they remained alert.  
The replication chamber loomed ahead… Site 6, their goal. The source of SIVA - but now, things were different.  
"We've… we've got to stop it," Radegast grunted. "Destroy it. With Rasputin controlling the SIVA… look at what it's already done. Imagine what it could do, if it gets out."  
He sighed. "Saladin, Isa, I need you two to make sure the entrance is secure. Then join us inside, and we'll finish this. For the Iron Lords. For the City!"

Axes at the ready, the two turned and left to fortify the cavern entrance.  
At the end of the winding tunnel, the cavern mouth opened to the snow and rubble once again. After about a minute's inspection, Saladin mused, "Looks sturdy," tempting fate.

The replication chamber shuddered, enough that the two Iron Lords outside felt it.

"We have to get inside! Now!" Saladin darted down the tunnel, and Isa moved to follow, but then another spasm shook the earth, sending loose rocks crumbling down upon the entrance of the cave.

Inside, Jolder gripped her machine gun tightly, firing and scattering a swarm of SIVA.  
Silimar's AR rattled as he squeezed the trigger.  
Skorri, quiet and contemplative, emptied burst after burst of her rifle's ammo into the SIVA's structures.  
Gheleon, ever cautious, took precise shots with his longrifle from a corner of the room.  
Felwinter's shotgun blasted away at attacking SIVA clusters, even as he questioned and regretted all that had led them here.  
Timur's Lash sounded, the whip-crack of his revolver roared against the perilous foe.  
The volatile coils of Perun's fusion rifle sounded with a vwrrp as she brought it to bear against the enemy that had taken so many of her friends.  
Lord Radegast hacked away at the warping, twisting tendrils. So long as his sword was whole, the Iron Banner could never be broken. As he swung it against the nanotech, it shattered woefully in half. The tendril pierced through his breastplate, and he screamed as it lifted him into the air.

As the caverns gave way to a cold, clinical hall, with pulsing crimson at its heart, Saladin sprinted down the path, Iron Axe in hand. Red and black particles swirled around him as he approached, but he swatted them away. Reaching the end of the tunnel, he saw Jolder, standing on the threshold, the door half open. Or half closed?  
_No!_

He bolted towards the door, but it was already sliding shut. Jolder fixed Saladin with a regretful expression, tears in her eyes as she was engulfed in crimson.

Isa, shaking the last of the rubble off her, hammer at the ready, blazing with Light. She charged for the door, barely even noticing Saladin.  
Smoke billowed from her nostrils, her eyes like heated coals, as she tossed hammer after hammer at the sealed door.  
Nothing gave. No reply, from the SIVA or from her comrades. Nothing.  
The warmth of the Solar Light receded, and Isa slumped to the ground, falling to her knees in front of the door.  
Saladin rose, moving carefully, slowly. "Isa?"  
The other Titan's shoulders shook. "You… you didn't save them."  
"I was too late," came the rasped reply. "We both were."  
"No...no!" Isa stood again, wearily, clutching her side. "We can… we can help them, still. Their Ghosts… got to be in there. We'll get them back. Felwinter… Jolder… Skorri…" She laid a hand on the door. "Please. We...we can save them. I have to."  
"There's no going back in there," Saladin said, his gaze staring far ahead at nothing at all.  
"I have to!" Isa whirled, anger and grief burning white-hot.  
"No, Isa. Even if we could get back in there, we'd die before we could do anything, and that's assuming we could even do anything."  
Isa hung her head, and was silent for a long time, until she met Saladin's gaze.  
Shaking, she leaned forward to embrace her mentor and friend.

Then, the two parted ways, for a time.

Limping out of the replication chamber, through the valley, and past the Cosmodrome's wall, Isa stopped for a moment, watching the snow fall lightly.  
_I won't forget you. Any of you. Your sacrifices were not in vain. Humanity will hear of your deeds and rejoice._

***

As the years rolled by, Isa would carry on, for the bonds she'd forged, and for the dream of brave humanity that she and her friends had borne forward on their shoulders… to see it through, into the present, the age of the City...  
Every once in a while, for many years, she'd venture out to the old Iron Temple, a journey that became less and less painful each time. After the resurgence of SIVA was quelled in the Plaguelands, Isa returned from the replication chamber, having laid the Iron Lords to rest for good.  
She'd knelt before the brazier, a tangle of metal and cloth in her hand, surrounded by the statues raised to their memory, and offered some words to the dearly departed. 

"I did it. We...did it. Perhaps now you can all rest. Your victory was within reach… if only you'd lived to see it. But now… you are gone, and I am still here, yet I carry with me all of your lessons. Your courage, your valor… faded, like the last of smoke from the pyre, and yet.. It returns to us, like rain blessing the barren fields. Sometimes I can still see you, far beyond that shining star… and I know when my time has come, we'll meet again."

"But, until then… I'll keep your legacy alive, wherever I go. A thousand foes scorched with my Light. A thousand eager listeners to my tales of that long-past era. With each fearsome enemy struck down, with each City dweller captivated, the Iron Lords live again, if only for a moment."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You need tissues? Me too, man. If you like what I do, hit that mf subscribe button! I have more fics planned, as well as more shenanigans with other people's OCs, so keep an eye out for that! See you starside.


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